The Devil’s Unfinished Chapter
Last Time on the VC's Lestat x Memnoch @maxym-the-devil @leroilestat
maxym-the-devil:
The male's eyes seemed to turn into liquid gold, gaining that ethereal quality that betrayed his nature. He stared at the other, the vampire Prince he'd once tried to sway to his side, with cold assessment. And burning amusement. His gaze lingered on that new eye Lestat now carried in its socket. An almost perfect replica to the one the Devil wore as a ring. Almost. Details had always mattered for Memnoch, and he saw every little one, filed them someplace for later uses. Could he still see through his real eye? Memnoch wondered. And as he wondered, he let silence stretch. Eventually, though, he leaned slightly back granting the vampire enough space to breathe away from the crushing weight of his presence. Well. Figuratively speaking, of course. "Bold of you to assume my affairs have anything to do with you." At least, Lestat hadn't changed much. His taylor, the way he carried himself, and even his scent had. But he still seemed to believe himself to be the main character of every damn book. While he's only ever been a chapter in the Devil's.
Lestat doesn’t step back when that weight settles in he leans into it his chin tilting just enough to meet Memnoch’s gaze head-on. There’s a flicker of recognition when the other’s attention drifts to his eye, but he doesn’t hide it. If anything, he lets it be seen… claimed. “Oh, but they always do,” he says his voice was low almost amused. “You’ve never been able to resist circling back to me. At least not when there’s something to measure, nor when there’s something you think you can still take.”
He shifts slow and deliberate. He’s closing the space that Memnoch had so generously offered as if it were an invitation rather than a dismissal. “And don’t pretend you’re above it,” Lestat adds quietly… almost conversational. “You look at me like that… like I’m a question you never quite solved.” There’s a faint sharp smile that touches his mouth. “So I’ll ask again, properly this time, are you here to judge me, or because you can’t stand that I chose my own damn story instead of the one you wrote for me?”
Pride. One of the most interesting sin. Not that the others weren't. But none was just as self destructive as this one. Lestat had already proven to be a walking chaos, always prone to inspire so many various emotions to the people gravitating around him. Always sowing death and loss. In a way, he was doing Memnoch a constant favor by just being himself. All the Devil had to do, was follow in his wake, wait patiently and reap what was his by law. He leaned a bit down, his long black hair swishing from his shoulder at the motion. Closeness wasn't making him uncomfortable. Not much did. "You are still so very young. So impetuous." Memnoch's low whispering voice was echoed by the darkness around, by the little strands of shadows that coiled like snakes in corners and forgotten edges. "Why does it feels like you want to be part of my own damned story?"
